


Intrinni's Story

by Keolah



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Adoption, Ancient Devices, Character Death, Gen, Rats & Mice, War, lost colony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-01
Updated: 2000-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Keolah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a world long abandoned by the Goa'uld, a war is being fought. Can a young boy reconcile love for his father with a desire to finally end the war?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intrinni's Story

The war with the Rat People raged on and on. Intrinni Gamba was horrified to learn that they had finally come to his city. His father was a dedicated resistance fighter who seemed almost eager to defend his home turf from the likes of the enemy. Intrinni, however, did not support the war effort as much as his father would like. 

The door burst open, admitting a fair-haired man with a sword, wearing the grey-green of the enemy. Intrinni looked up, his eyes pleading that he be taken from this horrible place. 

"Where are they, boy?" asked the man quietly. 

Intrinni shook his head, terrified that he might reveal too much. The warrior moved stealthily toward the door of the next room. Then Gamba came out of his hiding spot and began moving stealthily toward the enemy. He would take the soldier completely off guard, from behind. 

"Behind you!" cried Intrinni. 

His father whirled, but the enemy turned more slowly until he saw Gamba. As the sword plunged downward, Gamba gave his son a look of pure hatred, the kind of hatred reserved for a traitor. 

"Are there any others?" asked the warrior. 

"No, only me and my father, and now only me." 

"What's your name, boy?" 

"Intrinni Gamba," he answered. 

"I'm Joram," said the soldier. 

"Who's winning?" 

"The Fletians, it would seem. My people." 

The boy was confused. "But what about all those rats?" 

"The rats aren't fighters," Joram explained. "We use them to survey a city, so we know what places to strike and what places to leave alone. They can speak our language." 

"But you don't have an accent!" protested the boy. 

"Of course not. The Fletians speak this tongue as well as your own people," the warrior told him. "Now I must be going. Others will be along shortly." 

With that, Joram left the room. 

Intrinni called the maid in from the other room. "Get his head. I'll take the feet. We must get him to the sarcophagus."

It had been long since the great god Apophis had deigned to come to their world, but some artifacts of his reign yet remained. 

* * *

Estarri Joram, recovered from his injuries, went to consult the rats about the continuing seige of Aster. Previously, the Fletians had believed that they had taken the city, and the resistance given up. But now the rats told a different story. 

"The dead man leads them!" "Two score or more!" "In the market plaza!" "Swords and bows!" "Sickles!" 

Much of what they told him was incoherent babble. However, he did know one name the rats picked up: Gamba. 

"Gamba's alive!" muttered Joram. "How can that be?" 

Only the gods had the power to raise the dead, and they were long gone. But he considered, perhaps the Asterians had some ancient relic of the gods that could do it? He didn't know for certain. 

He hurried to the prisoner wing, a part of the city fully controlled by Fletians forces. "Are you holding Intrinni Gamba?" asked the warrior. 

The woman looked through the prisoner list. "Yes. Cell seventeen." 

"For what reason?" 

"He facilitated the recovery of Orhalli Gamba, who is now leading armed resistance against us," she explained, apparently knowing this herself. "He came here yesterday to surrender, confessing everything." 

"Then why are you holding him?" asked Joram rhetorically as he made his way to cell seventeen. He unlocked the door and entered the dim chamber. "Intrinni? Intrinni Gamba?" 

The boy stirred to life, his eyes aglow. "Joram!" he cried, almost delighted. 

"Intrinni, your father is leading armed resistance against us in the market plaza." 

"Oh, no," moaned Intrinni. "I told him not to get involved with that again. I just wanted us to live in peace." He nearly started crying. 

"Intrinni." Joram spoke quietly. "You can become one of us, you know. All you need to do is prove yourself to us, which you have already done had you just let your father go." 

"Mother always said that death is wrong and life is right, but now mother's dead like all the others and I can't say it was wrong for her to die because she was so sick. She would have just been miserable if she had lived. And we hadn't discovered the old sarcophagus yet at that point, and I don't know if it would have helped anyway. I didn't want her to die, not so soon, but I didn't want her to suffer either, but there was nothing I could do about it, but now there is!" 

Suddenly Joram saw that the boy had a knife in his hand. "Surely you aren't thinking of attacking me with that, are you?" 

"No, no, of course not. I'd be dead before I could even get close, and even if I did succeed in killing you, I'd never make it out of this prison." 

"Then what's the knife for?" 

"You mentioned proving myself," Intrinni said quietly. "I mean to prove myself." 

"But, how?" 

"The resistance won't continue resisting without their leader." 

Joram was puzzled. "But he's your father! You saved his life! How can you kill him?" 

"I killed him once before. I can do it again." Tears were streaming down the boy's face, but he wasn't sobbing. He had clearly thought this through and come to his decision logically. "The resistance is hopeless. They don't stand a chance against so many. Eventually, their supplies will run out and they'll have to do something. They're holding their children hostage, Joram! If you go in and try to stop them, they'll start killing them! Their own children! Because they know you don't want to risk that." 

"The rats said nothing of this," Joram told him. 

"The adults in the nursery are resistance fighters," Intrinni told him. "They have their orders. My father's orders. That's why he must be stopped." 

"I understand. Come on," said the warrior. 

Intrinni followed him out of the prison wing. He was scared, grief-stricken, and lonely, but he knew what he had to do to save the lives of innocent children.

"Father!" cried the boy. 

"Intrinni!" Gamba spread his arms to embrace his son. "You escaped!" 

"I'm sorry, Father." Intrinni held his steel blade. 

"What? What's the meaning of this?" Intrinni hesitated, suddenly reluctant to kill his own father. Perhaps there could be a way of talking with his father to get through to him. 

Then Intrinni realised that there could be no reasoning with Orhalli Gamba. Driven mad by the war, Gamba would sooner die than surrender to the Rat People. "I won't ask for your forgiveness, Father, because I know you won't forgive me." 

Then Gamba felt his son's knife. "You traitor. You are no son of mine! You hear me! You are not my son!" 

With that, Orhalli Gamba died. 

Joram and his Fletians entered from all sides, surrounding them. "Your leader is dead. Surrender now and we promise that your families will not be harmed." 

The resistance fighters, suddenly realizing that their own leader had put their children in danger intentionally, dropped their weapons and immediately surrendered. The Fletians led out the Asterians, leaving Joram and Intrinni alone. 

"You have certainly proven yourself, Intrinni," he almost smiled. 

"Joram," said the boy quietly. "Will you be my father?" 

Now the warrior did smile. "I will, Intrinni. I'll adopt you and raise you as the son I never had." Joram gathered the boy in his arms and carried him out of the market cube. 

He came to the sentry who guarded the gate to the city. 

"Who is this Asterian boy?" asked the sentry, recognizing the khaki clothing common to Aster. 

"He is no Asterian, sir. He is my son, Intrinni Joram. But for him, the war would have continued, and both sides would have lost many more of their people. Now, thanks to this remarkable boy, the war is over. I am glad to be his father, if in name only."


End file.
